


Bad Celebrity Influence (the Once More with Feeling remix)

by autoschediastic



Category: Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel, Young Avengers
Genre: M/M, Shapeshifting, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had asked exactly six point five seconds ago, Tony would have said that of the two people involved in this conversation, Steve wasn't the one fooling around with clever innuendo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Celebrity Influence (the Once More with Feeling remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ponderosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bad Celebrity Influence](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1217) by Ponderosa. 



"You know what we need, sweetheart?" Tony said, cutting straight through what he'd swear was a month-long dissertation on Fashion _Week_. "Real drinks."

To give her credit, her smile didn't waver as she glanced down at the champagne merrily bubbling away in her glass. A perfect curl of blond hair slipped over her shoulder to graze the top of her breast, catching on the tastefully beaded hem like an actor hitting a mark. "Vodka," she said, earning another ten points for not falling back on the default rum and coke. "Russian vodka and ice water."

Tony hooked a finger in the curl of her hair to push it back, his knuckles brushing the soft swell of her chest. "Perfect. Russian vodka and ice water, hold the water."

Her laugh didn't match her look, too light and pretty for the sleek New York edge she was working. It was almost enough to make him rethink sending her off to vainly search for where they were hiding the real booze. As far as he could tell--and he hadn't been wrong yet--there wasn't anything under that dress besides skin and sin.

Thirty seconds later, with a saucy wink and a smile to match, his sure thing walked away. When she slipped out of sight, he snagged one of the waiters and along with his empty flute and two Benjamins, dropped the suggestion that a good bottle of Jameson 15 would be worth three times as much.

The waiter's eyes lit up like Times Square on New Years. He pocketed the cash with a smooth flick of his fingers and about-faced, making a beeline in the direction opposite of the one Tony's erstwhile companion had headed.

"That isn't something you see everyday." Steve's cufflink scraped the railing as he neared, one hand sliding along the top and the other tucked into his pocket. "Generally people flock to you, not away."

One of the best and worst things about these charity hoohas was they got Steve out of jeans and tees and into tuxes. He looked like the poster child for the American upper crust, so neat and tidy, the perfect gentleman. Tony's favourite time-killer at black-tie events was to imagine taking him apart piece by piece until he was a fucked-out sprawl in the middle of some oversized bed with rumpled sheets and at least five conspicuous stains for the cleaning staff to gossip about.

Steve might not like formal wear but that didn't mean he couldn't pull it off spectacularly. And pull it off was just what Tony wanted to do.

"Had to clear the way for you," Tony said, leaning back to brace his elbows on the rail. "Nice suit."

The first hint of a fidget showed up in the unconscious tug Steve gave his sleeve. "It should be, since you paid for it." Coming from somebody else, that might've rang out more like a jab than the honest thanks it was. Steve didn't know the meaning of the word 'backhanded'.

"Always happy to help. Having fun?"

"Yes," Steve ventured, and then with a rueful laugh added, "I don't think I'd call it fun but it's not terrible. I think it would be better to organise a sports tournament for the kids rather than spend so much on something like this, but they didn't ask for my opinion, just my name on the guest list."

Tony tilted his head back to stare up at the sky instead of the high round curve of Steve's ass. "You want a sports tournament next year, we could do a sports tournament."

After one beat of silence, Steve said, "Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't realise this was one of yours. It's a good party. Sometimes you have to spend money to get people to give money, right?"

Forcing the twitch at the corner of his mouth into a full smile, Tony dropped his chin back down. He should've known Steve wouldn't really approve of shelling out so many of the bucks that should've gone to the charity, even if Stark Industries was footing most of the bill. As much as he hated it, Tony still had a board to answer to. "Right. Just remember it was all your idea when they want you to play basketball in full costume."

A laugh burst out of Steve, as light and clear as that girl's had been but better, so much better. It wasn't that hers was fake, or lesser in any way, it's just that this was _Steve_. In Tony's eyes, not many could compete with that.

"What about you?" Steve asked, always so damn courteous. "Enjoying your night?"

Ignoring his own mental warning to watch it, Tony slid a sly smile Steve's way and said, "The evening's proceedings just took a definite upswing."

But Steve was Steve and he returned the smile full force while any flirty implications flew right below his radar. "It's always nice to be appreciated. I was glad to see you alone out here, I needed a familiar face."

It was kind of infuriating that Steve could say shit like that and not mean anything by it. The way he said it, it was exactly like a baseman's slap on the ass, or a full on the mouth kiss at the Oscar's--it didn't mean a damn thing except good job, nice to see you.

And all Tony could say in response to it was an equally cordial, "Getting too much for you in there?"

"A bit." Rolling his shoulders, Steve glanced back inside. "Maybe a little more than a bit. I don't mind conversation but most of it seemed to be gossip and hear-say."

"It's what they live on, Cap. The bread and butter of the well-to-do." Straightening up, Tony clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. Three layers of shirt, waistcoat and jacket didn't do much to hide the firm cut of muscle beneath. "Fortunately for you, you found me, and I know where the games room is in this pathetic excuse for a penthouse."

Steve cast an obligatory but perfectly willing to be persuaded glance inside. "You shouldn't abandon your guests."

"It's not my party, my name's just on the invitation. Hell, it's practically expected for me to cut and run at the first available opportunity. They're gonna wonder what's up if I _don't_." Tony let his hand slide down to lightly grasp Steve's elbow. "Be my excuse to skedaddle."

"Tony-"

"There's a pool table."

Steve finally looked away from the party. "One game couldn't hurt."

"There you go," Tony said, and let his arm slide back around Steve's shoulders to steer him away from the main press. "It's about time you showed me how you handle a stick."

*

By the time the waiter found them, Steve had ditched his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, one of the barstools was wearing more of Tony's tux than he was, and Tony had pretty much forgotten all about sending the guy off to play fetch. He quickly fished out a few bills to drop onto the tray and plucked up the bottle and glasses that were sitting on it, one eyebrow raised.

"Certain people never drink alone, sir," the waiter said, grinning as he pocketed the cash.

Tony's reply was a wink and a cocky salute with the bottle. It didn't matter that he'd fully intended on enjoying this one solo until Steve had wandered along.

Once the waiter got gone, Tony turned to Steve. "Drink?"

"A small one," Steve said, glancing up briefly from the shot he was lining up. It hadn't been Tony's table for close to five minutes. "I'd rather a beer."

"All American hero," Tony said, cracking the bottle's seal. "How about we drink like we're playing pool, except we'll go three shots for me and one for you instead."

Before Tony got a chance to pour, Steve straightened up. "Your shot. Here, let me do that."

Shrugging, Tony exchanged the bottle for Steve's cue, fitting his hand over the warmth Steve's touch left behind. He chalked the tip while sizing up the table. "How did you miss that?"

With his back turned to the pool table, Steve said, "Can't hit them all."

"You can." Except the table was pretty fucked, leaving only one shot Tony thought he'd be able to make. He moved to the other side near Steve and held out a hand for his drink.

"That shot before this shot," Steve said.

"Are you holding my Jameson hostage?"

"I'm one of the good guys, Tony. I'm holding it in trust."

"Right," Tony drawled, and bent down to line it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Steve's wince. "All right, what?"

"Nothing." Giving his whiskey a swirl, Steve lifted it to drink and paused halfway there. "You're sure that's the shot you want to take?"

Tony frowned at the table. "Yes. Why, do you want to come over here and show me how it's done?"

In whichever universe where that led to a slow smile carving its way onto Steve's face followed by a casual stroll over to step right in close behind Tony, maybe one hand settled low on his back while the other slid down to fix Tony's grip on the cue, this wasn't it. All Steve did was look genuinely sorry he'd mentioned it and glance down at his untouched whiskey for half a second before saying, "Go ahead."

And while that little fantasy died a painful death in the corner, Tony lined back up and took the shot. The five ball barely grazed the edge as it sailed down the green and cracked off the seven to land straight into the left side pocket.

"Ha," Tony said, rapping his knuckled on the table. "And that's how you do it. Hand over that drink."

It took a second but when Steve gave him his glass, it came with a smile.

*

One game became two that became a third for a tiebreaker and then the best out of nine. The games themselves barely lasted longer than a quarter of an hour each since Tony ended up spending more time with a drink in hand instead of a cue. Steve took his time, brow furrowed as he lined up shot after shot before finally taking one while Tony's method was more of a general sweep and an overabundance of confidence in his own skill.

The Jameson took more hits than the table did. Tony sized up the twenty or so ounces left in the bottle before pouring another drink to keep him entertained as Steve did his dance around the table. "If your plan is to win by waiting for my coordination to go down the drain, we're going to need another bottle."

Steve's gaze swung up from the table, bounced off the glass in Tony's hand and settled on the bottle. "Hell, Tony," he said, "you're going to make yourself sick."

"Are you kidding me?"

Resting the cue against the wall, Steve came over to check the bottle. "I know I didn't help you drink all of that."

The concern tugging the corners of Steve's mouth down was as endearing as it was annoying, so in the interest of continued friendship Tony shoved the annoyance away and focused firmly on the warm and cliché fuzzies in his tummy that didn't have anything to do with the booze. "I get to indulge when I'm footing the bill," he said, and deftly plucked the Jameson from Steve's hands to shove it behind him somewhere. "Besides, I had to do something to keep from shoving you over the pool table. And messing up your very precise calculations."

Steve huffed out a noise that wasn't a laugh but was still close enough to count. "You wouldn't do that."

"I so would. It's not cheating if you can get away with it."

"So you're saying I'd let you get away with it."

If someone had asked exactly six point five seconds ago, Tony would have said that of the two people involved in this conversation, Steve wasn't the one fooling around with clever innuendo. Now he wasn't so sure. That sure as hell _sounded_ like innuendo. Fuck it, practically a full-blown come-on.

He'd really like to blame the booze, or the gravitational radius of the moon, or maybe even the solar event causing dust storms on Mars for making him think it was a good idea to rock up onto his toes and put his tongue in Steve's mouth. And for about fifteen glorious seconds, it was a _fantastic_ idea. Steve looked good, he smelled good, he fucking _tasted_ fabulous, a little spicy like he'd been munching on canapés, a little warm and mellow like the aftertaste of the whiskey he'd been nursing.

Steve's hands settled over his, fingers curling in to gently pull Tony's away from his face. Thankfully enough he didn't sound confused or upset when he quietly asked, "Tony, what are you doing?" but it wasn't exactly stuffed to the rafters with encouragement.

"Kissing you," Tony said, going for the rampantly apparent. "The moment was there, right? Here. This is the moment and we're in it, and just how fucking obvious do I need to be?"

"You're pretty obvious most of the time," Steve said, that little twitch of a smile reappearing. "But you've been drinking, Tony, so I don't think-"

"I don't need to be drunk to want to kiss you. I'm very seriously _not_ drunk." Though it was one of the hardest things in the whole fucking universe to do--and still unrelated to how much whiskey he had sloshing around in his veins--Tony pulled away. "Come on."

"Come on where?"

Grabbing Steve's hand, Tony started dragging him across the room to one of the side doors. "Leave your jacket, leave the booze, just c'mon."

"I'm coming, but I'm still wondering where--oh."

Tony kicked the door shut with his heel and groped along the wall for the light switches. He hit the ones over the bed on first shot. "Here," he said, and with a lifetime of practice, had Steve's tie undone and the first few buttons of his shirt opened before Steve had finished staring. Admittedly, the setup was a little pornoesque even for Tony's taste, but a bed was a bed and a gold ticket opportunity was not to be wasted.

Taking full advantage of the situation, Tony slipped one hand in under Steve's shirt and leaned up to kiss him again, nothing but tiny little teasing ones that stopped before they'd even gotten started. Steve groaned something that might've been a word once upon a time and caught his chin, holding him still for a proper kiss so deep and slow and good that Tony might've actually put money down on the rest of his clothes spontaneously removing themselves if he'd had a brain cell left to consider it.

"Back it up, back it up," Tony said, and when Steve turned to look where they were going, caught his face instead to keep his mouth right where it was. There wasn't a hint of stubble anywhere on Steve's face or throat, meaning he'd shaved for a second time that day right before the party since a hefty five o'clock shadow was one of those serum side-effects no one else seemed to care about but Tony couldn't help but notice.

Tony nuzzled up under his jaw and kept him moving steadily backwards, and of course Steve didn't stumble, not even once. Right up until his heel hit the base of the bed, anyway; then he sucked in a quick breath and stopped short. "Tony, wait."

_Wait_ sounded too much like _stop_ to Tony's way of thinking. He eased off reluctantly. "I told you, I'm not drunk. There is no impaired judgement here."

"Okay, you're not drunk," Steve said, exactly like he was saying it just to indulge the drunk person currently hanging around his neck, "but this is someone else's bed, Tony."

"It's a rental. The penthouse, I mean, not the bed. Though technically speaking that is too."

"There are _other people_ out there," Steven pressed on, wilfully ignoring how flimsy all these excuses were. "I have no complaints about kissing you but we're not doing that here."

Knowing full well it was crude and unnecessary, Tony still said, "'That' meaning fuck," anyway. "It's okay if we make out but we're not going to fuck. I didn't get around to asking you to stick it to me yet."

The colour in Steve's face went up a few notches even as his gaze went hard. That wasn't the only thing hardening up, either, and Tony got a hand between them to cup Steve's cock and prove it. He was totally planning on saying something else but fuck if the feel of Steve stiff against his palm didn't blast whatever the hell it was right out the back of his skull.

Steve's grip on his shoulder went tight, fingers flexing absently along with the kneading little stroke Tony gave him. "Why now?" he asked. "You waited so long already, why do this now?"

A fucking good question, and one Tony didn't really have an answer for. He started unbuttoning his shirt one-handed instead, the reactor's glow spilling between them as the thick cotton parted. "You're right," he said, a full-body shiver going through him as Steve's hand drifted down to lightly touch where the warm metal edge met flesh. "I waited too long. Now's as good a time as any."

One of Steve's hands clamped tight to Tony's wrist, stilling his hand and digging in so hard it actually kind of hurt. "Not good enough, Tony."

"Maybe not _as_ good as any, but that's a little harsh." Trying for an endearing little smile, Tony barely managed to nail false and cocky once he got a look at Steve's face. Steve was not smiling. Steve didn't even look vaguely interested anymore, which was a feat considering his mouth was still a little red from having Tony's lips and teeth all over it. "Okay, what'd I do now?"

"Nothing," Steve said--and talk about lie, lie, lie, wasn't there something in the Captain America handbook that prohibited bald-faced lies? "And you're not going to do anything except find a cup of coffee and go back to your guests."

"Why would I do that when I've got you right here and there's a bed right there? You weren't faking those kisses, and you were _so_ not faking that boner you had going on there. You want this as much as I do."

Steve said, "Not right now I don't," and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, as in an actual fucking closed-mouth peck on the cheek. "Stay in here to sober up if you want, but try not to have any more meaningless sex just because it seems like a good idea at the time."

And before Tony could get his brains unscrambled long enough to do anything about it, Steve was gone. He stared at the closed door, the hot flush of shame swiftly replacing dying arousal. If Steve thought he was just a horny drunk trying to scratch an itch, Jesus Christ, was he barking up the wrong fucking tree. He'd _said_ he wasn't drunk, for fuck's sake. It wasn't even a half-truth or an exaggeration--he'd need twice as much as what he'd downed out there to feel more than the slight tingle of happiness he'd been enjoying until Steve went and stomped it flat.

So the venue wasn't great. Fine. They could've _left_. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd cut and run, even if it wasn't exactly a life or death kind of situation. No one would actually think to ask if they'd left to stop the end of the world or just ducked out for a quickie in the backseat. A solid chunk of the population thought Steve couldn't be anything but straight as an arrow heterosexual, since no way in hell would Captain fucking _America_ have homosexual leanings. Bisexual was probably something most of them thought happened every other month, like their insurance payment plan.

"Fuck it," he muttered, and kicked the side of the bed before dropping down onto it. He'd been planning on getting off so that was what he was gonna do, Steve or no Steve. It wasn't like he had a shortage of prime grade Steve related material in the spank bank, anyway.

He shoved at the blankets and kicked the pillows askew, really planning on working the scene for all it was worth, and just when he'd settled back to get a hand down his pants, the main door to the suite cracked open. Both his heart and stomach lurched up into his throat, but naturally it wasn't Steve coming back to apologise for being a dick. Tony was the only dick around here, and he wasn't close to being good enough to apologise for it.

Billy Kaplan on the arm of Teddy Altman was a gorgeous and generous apology from the universe, and a barely legal one to boot. He sat up slowly, recognising the wide-eyed look on Billy's face as turned on but ready to bolt, and said, "If you two were looking for where the fun is, you just found it."

Billy stumbled over some shit excuse about how they should be going, Teddy joining in to give him a hand and they ended up talking over one another in a way that was nothing other than cute. But Billy's pretty eyes were fixed somewhere two miles south of decent and Teddy wasn't doing much better. Like icing on the cake, even with all that verbal bumbling neither one of them made a move back out that door.

"What you should do is stay awhile," Tony said, cutting straight through all that crap. He put a hand on Teddy's arm, watched the kid swallow and shift to slightly greener shade beneath that blush, and oh fuck yes. _Perfect_. "Have a drink."

"We're not," Billy started, but Teddy's rougher, "Well," ran right over it.

"Did I hear a yes? I think I heard a yes." It was almost painfully easy to see the opening Tony needed to wriggle his way right on in between them--Billy was still staring at his hand as he slid it up Teddy's incredibly nicely muscled arm, then his mouth when he leaned in close to whisper, "You're not going to say no to me, are you?" into Teddy's ear. "You're not going to even try to tell me you don't want it."

The look on Billy's face couldn't have been any more poleaxed if Tony had simply dropped to his knees and started sucking them both right then and there. It was more than enough to make Tony want to kiss him, to see him dazed and breathless and not even close to thinking the word _no_. And fuck, Billy didn't disappoint, moaned straight into his mouth when Tony pulled him in for a kiss, just opened up and hung on. A tiny little tremor travelled up his arm and ended in his fingers clutching hard at the rumple of Tony's shirt.

Mouth buzzing like he'd just taken a hit of something, Tony turned to Teddy to get a taste of him, already measuring the hesitancy of his kiss and the solid feel of his body beneath Tony's palms against the fresh raw-edged memory of Steve. Either Teddy had more balls than Billy or Billy was just the type to enjoy somebody else's initiative because right after the first push of Tony's tongue into his mouth, Teddy tried to take over. Getting him to keep it slow--keep it like Steve's kiss--took more effort than he wanted to put in so he backed off, darted in for one last lick to make sure neither of them noticed.

"Move it to the bed," he suggested, turning to shut the doors. Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he figured he'd give them a few minutes to sort out whatever hang-ups either of them might be carrying--not that he thought there were many, considering they way they lined up for those kisses, and while they were at it, he tossed out his original plans for his shapeshifting friend over there. He didn't care so much what they thought of him; he knew his rep, even if they didn't. But involving Steve like that--fuck, he wanted to. He knew exactly how screwed up it was, knew it'd be a pale and shitty comparison to the real thing, and the last thing he really needed to do was give the next generation a front-row seat preview of all the pathetic, twisted crap mutants and capes and abandoned space aliens got the joy of dealing with.

Their little recon session broke up and he slapped on a smile, shoved Steve out of his head and got his first really good look at what was actually on the menu. "Here's what we're gonna do, big guy," he said, looking at Teddy while he got his hands back on Billy, finally appreciating the wiry strength in him, how lean and supple he was and how very willing he was to be pushed back towards the bed. "You're going make all my self-centred egotistical dreams come true, and I'm going to give you fodder for the hottest roleplay you're ever going to have. With me?"

The backs of Billy's knees hit the bed and he went down smooth as silk, propped up on his elbows and his blush going three shades deeper. He kept looking up at Teddy like he didn't think it would happen even _while_ it was happening, first the colour of Teddy's eyes and then the shape, the rest of his face following suit and right on down from there until his tux was hanging loose and he was smiling like he knew exactly how hot it was for Tony to be staring his doppelganger in the face.

And just to prove it, Teddy straddled his boyfriend's hips and asked, "Good?" like he already knew the answer.

"Take your dick out," Tony said, grinning when two pairs of hands went for two different zippers and collided halfway there. He left them to it, more interested for the moment in finding out if that attitude came with a new kind of kiss for him to taste. He knelt on the bed beside them and leaned in, caught Teddy--_himself_, complete with a lazy smirk and heavy-lidded eyes--under the chin. "Show me how I kiss."

"I'm gonna die," Billy breathed, and the illusion instantly shattered as the flush returned to Teddy's face along with this shy little smile that Tony would seriously consider a reason for never leaving his house again if it ever found its way onto his actual face.

"That's making eyes at your boyfriend, not kissing me," Tony pointed out, and took the kiss he wanted, making it maybe a little wetter, a little more deep and lewd than he'd been planning on but he had to do something to get that abashed image out of his head. And then he got a little carried away learning the texture of his mouth from the outside in, nuzzling at Teddy's face to see what it felt like, coaxing him into tracing the tip of his tongue all along Tony's lips before dipping inside.

Teddy was practically humping Billy's thigh by the time he was done and he had to admit it was pretty fucking hot. He looked halfway to flying high already, biting on the inside of his lip, and seriously, Jesus Christ, no wonder everyone and their twin brother wanted to fuck him.

He reached for Teddy's cock, really fucking eager to get a feel for it from a whole new angle, and stopped short before he got close. "Huh."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark," Teddy said, doing that stupid adorable thing again, "I didn't see the, uh, I haven't seen a picture of you without your clothes on."

"Miracles happen," Tony said, already edging back off the bed to shrug out of his shirt. If he was going to give them the cock shot, he might as well do it properly. "Also note that people who fuck me get to call me Tony, even if it they're just fucking their shapeshifted boyfriend. Or are the shapeshifted boyfriend."

The weight of their attention buzzed like an open electric current against Tony's skin. He savoured the blatant appreciation, the knowledge that he was making one of their dirty little fantasies come true, all of it, as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pushed the whole works down. He even went so far as to kick free of everything, shoes and socks included, and turned in a slow circle. "You need me to spread 'em too, or have you got the picture?"

"Got it," Teddy said, giving Tony the treat of hearing his own voice rough with lust. "Better?"

Tony's gaze jumped down. "Better," he said, even before he'd knelt back on the bed and gotten a proper feel of it. "So much better." He looked up just in time to see Teddy's head fall back. "Like it?"

Teddy made a noise that was probably meant to be an answer. Billy didn't even try, his hands gripping Teddy's hips so tightly his knuckles were turning white, maybe even hard enough to bruise--if Steve held on to him like that, he'd bruise, and he'd wake up the next morning fucking loving every single little ache.

Quickly sitting back, he dug through the heap of his slacks and slapped a rubber and a lube packet onto Billy's flat stomach. "Get to it, kid. Let's see what I look like with your dick up his ass."

Billy groaned a curse--his first one of the night--and made record time in suiting up. And even so by the time he was done Teddy had shoved his slacks all the way down past his knees and was settling over Billy's cock, settling _onto_ his cock, not one bit of prep to ease the way but going down warm and sweet as fresh made honey.

"Now that's just showing off," Tony said, getting back in close to slide his fist around Teddy's dick. "I like it. Feel free to show off any time the urge catches you."

Billy gasped out something else, less like a word and more like he just couldn't keep quiet, and Tony grinned down at him, got his other hand in between them to feel where his cock pushed up into Teddy. "Bet you can feel the difference, can't you? It's still your boyfriend you're fucking but it's me you're feeling."

That time around it was Teddy who let out the moan loud enough to shake the glass. Self-absorbed or not, it was one of the hottest things Tony had heard in a long, long time, baring some exceptions he wasn't fucking thinking about, and the urge to get his mouth on his own damn cock surged up too fast and vicious to ignore. He barely managed to get the head of Teddy's cock sucked into his mouth before Billy's hand tightened like a vice in his hair.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said, rising up, "don't tell me that's a stop. You've got about five seconds to tell me if it is, and you'd better be damn sure you don't want me to suck his brains out through his dick while he's riding you.'

Billy's grip went tighter and he said, weak and a little shaky, "No, s'not a stop."

In some strange and incredibly delayed moral fit, Tony asked, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Billy said, this time with some actual conviction.

Tony gave him a quick kiss that tasted like Teddy's dick. "Then how about you yank a little harder and show me what you've got."

To Tony's pleased surprise, Billy actually did it. Gave him a little shove back down and kept his grip tight, even tugged him up once or twice so all he had in his mouth was the very tip of Teddy's cock, his tongue pushing at the slit searching for what Teddy really tasted like. Sweeter than he'd expected, thicker, and he went against Billy's grip to sink back down, ready for a mouth full of it.

Like a breaker tripped Billy switched from holding him off to holding him down. Teddy's cock nudged closer towards the back of his throat with every sharp upward thrust and he started sucking deep breaths in through his nose, waiting for the moment one of them broke and Teddy ended up shooting straight down his throat instead of onto his tongue.

But it didn't happen and Tony wasn't sure if he was grateful for the thick load he got or disappointed that his throat wasn't stretched wide around the mirror image of his cock. He stayed right where he was while Teddy softened up, memorising the contours he'd only felt by hand before, and neither one of them made any attempt to move when he finally pulled back and jerked off onto the sheets, finishing in a handful of seconds.

"Thanks for the rescue," he said, flopping back onto a cleaner patch of cotton. "If you're not gonna hang around and cuddle, bathroom's thataway."

Still wearing his face, Teddy slid off the bed up into a languorous stretch, the move so slick and the smirk so spot on that Tony would've been hard pressed to say it wasn't him if he saw it on tape. "Thanks for the star fuck."

"Always happy to add a notch or two to someone's bedpost." Before he lost the opportunity entirely, Tony looked down to see what sort of package Billy was carting around. "When you need to update your databanks there, big guy, you know where to find me."

Dropping an arm over his eyes, Tony listened to the hushed sound of their voices as they toddled off to clean up. He was almost disappointed they hadn't hung around, but not surprised. One round of smokin' hot casual sex was a long ways away from a precedent for post-coital snuggles, and it wasn't like that reputation of his came with an overabundance of happy mornings-after, or even semi-content ten-minute-afters.

Getting up to haul back on that tux and trot out the party was way too much effort to even consider, let alone do, so Tony snagged the corner of the thick comforter and hauled it up around his hips. It wasn't like somebody stumbling in on him while he was butt naked in a room that smelled like sex was a new thing.

*

It couldn't have been more than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later that Tony jolted out of a light doze. He cracked open one eye to see who'd finally found him and promptly shut it again with a silent groan.

When no sternly worded lecture about the good of the nation and the consequences of being so firmly in the public eye came down on him like the fist of an angry moralist, he heaved himself up to sit with his back propped against the flat leather-padded headboard. "They couldn't hide that just nailed by Tony Stark glow, huh."

"Not really, no," Steve said, standing with his back to the closed door. Not leaning on it, fuck no, because Captain American didn't need the help of conveniently placed piece of architecture to make it through a simple conversation. "Though I don't think they were trying very hard."

Tony made a sound like a laugh. "Don't blame them." He folded his hands over his stomach and puffed out a breath. "All right, c'mon. Give me what you've got. 'What were you thinking, Tony, they're just kids, they look up to you,' et cetera, et cetera."

"I'd thought about it," Steve said in all seriousness, "and while in some ways all those things are true, in others they're not. If those two are mature enough to maintain a healthy relationship with all the minefields and pitfalls that theirs has, they're able to decide for themselves who they want to include in it." A slight pause, then, "Be that temporarily or not."

Scratching at his jaw with a thumbnail, Tony said, "That's incredibly temperate of you. I expected more frowning. Maybe even a curse or two."

"If I cussed every time you drove me to it, Tony, I'd never do anything but." Steve slid his hands into his pockets, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he put a little more distance between his back and the door. "I was there," he said with a nod towards the games room, "with your bottle of Jameson."

Tony tried to hide a grimace by saying, "Didn't help, huh?"

"Not especially."

"So, what? You just wanted me to know? And that came out wrong, but seriously, what's the point of telling me that?"

Steve actually looked uncertain for a moment, an expression Tony hadn't seen in months if not going on years, and said, "Would you believe I wanted to apologise?"

"Usually no, but you haven't lied to me yet." Shifting up a bit more, Tony made space on the bed for Steve to sit, even though there was already plenty of space and he wasn't about to extend an actual invitation. "What the hell are you apologising for?"

"Leaving you."

"Now that sounds dramatic."

The first hint of a real frown tugged at Steve's mouth. "Please don't do that, Tony. I didn't give you a real chance to explain last time and you're doing the same thing to me. I never said I didn't want to sleep with you, but I didn't say that wasn't all that I wanted to do, either."

"Still used goods, Cap," Tony said, really wishing he could just let it lie but of all people, Steve deserved to know what kind of shit he was stepping in. "All wrapped up in the hot and sexy package but the shine's worn thin and the factory-fresh scent is long gone."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Steve said, his frown fading but no smile there yet. It'd be too much to ask for Steve to smile for him over something like this. "But you're not as smart as you think you are if you're convinced that matters to me."

Tony was still searching for something to say to that--anything to say, _period_\--when Steve came over, braced a knee on the bed and a hand on the headboard, and kissed him. Not some platonic little peck, either, or some hesitant I'm-not-sure-I-should-be-doing this brush of their lips, but a full on, tongue in his mouth, fingertips sliding along his jaw, no time for this bullshit kiss. He melted into it like an ice sculpture in Dubai, bones gone liquid and muscles softer than strings of hot taffy.

"That's what I'd do if I wanted to be dramatic," Steve said, drawing back. "Now put your clothes on."

It took Tony a second to get over the wet tingle lingering on his lips. "Isn't this is where you take yours off?"

"Not here, it isn't," Steve said, snagging the rumple of Tony's slacks from the foot of the bed. "You're going to take me home first."

Kicking at the sheets, Tony rolled out of bed and grabbed his pants from Steve's grip with one hand while snatching up his shirt in the other. "You know where else isn't here? The backseat of my limo."

And maybe Steve groaned, but it was through a smile.


End file.
